


Down We Go

by inpurifyingflame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Hitting Rock bottom, Post-Deathly Hallows, Potential Triggers, mental health, simmering addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 00:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11543493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inpurifyingflame/pseuds/inpurifyingflame
Summary: Two years after joining the Aurors, at the age of 20, Ron decides he has had enough.





	Down We Go

**Down We Go**

A/N: I am a country girl living in the Australian suburbs with a penchant for writing fanfiction based on other people’s imaginings. I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliation. 

“Harry,” Hermione said one cold evening as she drank her warm Butterbeer in the Leaky Cauldron, “Have you seen Ron in the past two or three days?” 

“He’s taken leave from the office,” A weary looking Harry replied as he shrugged off his outer cloak and collapsed into the booth, “Started without me?” 

“Oh, yes,” Hermione said blushing, “I thought I’d just have this to warm and go and see Ron. He hasn’t been in contact with me for a few days and even before that he was acting a bit…”

“Odd,” Harry finishes for her, looking up to thank the woman who brought his drink and meal over to the table, “All he said to me on Tuesday was that he was taking leave for about a week, maybe longer, to sort out a few things. He wouldn’t tell me anymore.”

Hermione was flicking her wand to neaten her paperwork before he finished talking, “I’m going to his flat to see him. Enjoy your meal and say hello to Andromeda when you see her tonight.”  
“I will,” Harry smiled at the thought of his godson, now a happy and babbling two-year-old, “Let me know how things go.”

Hermione nodded, stuffed her papers into the correct folder and walked outside into the chilly London air. She made her way behind the usual Apparition point down from the pub and landed amongst the dustbins of an apartment building. 

Feeling a sense of dread come into her body, Hermione sprinted out from behind the bins, magicked her way into the building and rushed up to the fourth floor. She found number six with the door locked and knocked loudly, continuing to do so until a voice broke her insistence.

“Shut up!” A neighbour called from behind their own door at number three. 

“Oh ridiculous,” Hermione muttered, “Ron! Ronald open this door!”

With no answer Hermione pulled out her wand, tapped the door knob and moved into the flat. 

Clearly Ron hadn’t been worried enough to put a stronger locking charm on his door. 

At once she was overcome with the strong fumes of alcohol as well as something that smelt like a mixture of ashes, sweaty socks and blood. 

“Goodness Ronald!” She whispered and jumped at a movement on the couch in front of the fireplace. 

“What’ya doing here ‘Mione?” Ron slurred.

Hermione saw an empty bottle of whiskey beside the couch, Muggle brand she noted. Ron must have been in desperate need. Other bottles littered the coffee table and an open bottle of wine sat on the bench next to the shards of what was once a favoured glass. 

“You haven’t been at work,” Hermione said in a brisk tone, “To drink? Really?”

“Piss off,” Ron said and rolled over so he faced the back of the couch.

Hermione glanced around the flat once more and felt a strange movement of pity.

“Did somebody break in?” She questioned, avoiding a suspicious puddle on the floor and moving into the kitchen to open the fridge, “Ah no food but plenty of alcohol. Were you planning on drinking all of this? Rather ambitious.”

“Hermione I’ve told you to bugger off,” Ron said before he groaned and flipped back over to vomit on the floor beside the couch.

Hermione wrinkled her nose, “That’s it, into the shower.”

“No.”

“You reek Ronald, let’s go or I’ll levitate you in there!”

Ron groaned again and pressed his hands to his eyes as he pushed off the couch. Grumbling he made his way to the closet sized bathroom. Hermione pulled open the shower, pushed Ron in and hexed the taps.

“Jesus, Hermione!” Ron protested, “My clothes!”

“Don’t come out until you’re clean and have sobered up a bit!” Hermione sang out as she shut the door behind her, “Right!”

Hermione pulled her wand from her cloak that had been slung over her bag and pointed it at the rubbish bin. 

Soon she had the strewn bottles rattling in the bin followed by the previously full bottles that now had their contents poured down the sink. The pool of sick was vanished and the couch thoroughly cleaned with a flick of her wand. 

Hermione flicked the blinds open. Despite it being the evening a silvery glow of the moon came through the windows. Lamps were turned on, the fireplace turned up and the fragrance of floral air freshener spread through the room.

The bedroom was just as bad with the covers spread all over the floor and the alarm broken in the corner. Hermione found the source of the smell of sweaty socks and put them, along with a few days of Muggle clothes and Auror robes, in the washing basket. 

Hermione gave sharp flicks with her wand and the bed covers pulled up with the pillows set neatly on top.

“Reparo,” She murmured and pointed her wand at the alarm clock which began to tick once more. 

A fresh pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a soft woollen jumper folded themselves on the bed. Hermione debated choosing Ron’s underwear but just pulled the drawers open until she found them. Ron could find his own. 

She heard the shower switch off just as she brushed up the broken glass from the floor and she quickly flicked on the hot water tap. In a matter of seconds the stove kettle was on and two mugs, each with a tea bag, appeared on the bench. 

“Do you feel better?” Hermione asked as she poured the hot water into the cup.

“Bit.” 

Ron stood in the doorway of the bathroom, one towel wrapped around his waist and another hanging around his neck and dangling in front of his chest. 

“I’m making tea,” Hermione said in her no-nonsense tone, “I’ve left clothes on the bed.”

Ron grunted his thanks and moved into the bedroom to change. The mugs were steaming by the time he emerged and rubbed his wet red hair. There was no bother in charming it dry. He moved back into the bathroom to put the towels away and took a deep breath before he stood in front of the sink to brush his teeth. 

Hermione finished mixing up her potion and placed it next to Ron’s tea. He eventually emerged from the bathroom to join Hermione in the small kitchen. 

“What’s this?”

“Anti-nausea,” Hermione said as she moved to the couch, “You’ll be needing it.”

“Cheers,” Ron said and gulped it down before he swallowed down a swig of tea, “Eugh.”

“Not the most pleasant of tastes but it works,” Hermione said, “Will you come and sit with me?”

Ron acquiesced and put his mug on the coffee table which, he noted, was sparkling with his Auror books stacked in a neat pile. 

“Thanks ‘Mione,” Ron murmured as he drank deeply from his mug and felt the warmth from the tea spread through his limbs.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been happening?” Hermione probed not expecting Ron to tell her anything.

He was never very good at sharing his feelings, she thought. 

However, to her surprise Ron put his mug down. 

“I can’t do it anymore Hermione,” Ron said quietly after a long pause, looking at his Muggle fireplace, “The death, the injuries, not knowing if I’m coming home at night. Not knowing that you’ll always have a boyfriend. Desk duty isn’t much fun either. I did enough of that at Hogwarts. And the nightmares Hermione, God the nightmares.”

“When was the last time you had a full night’s sleep?” Hermione asked, deep down already knowing the answer.

“About a week or two into becoming a trainee.”

Hermione gasped, “Nearly two years ago? Oh Ron.”

Ron shrugged and took a sip of tea, “Sleeping potions helped but the nightmares… not even the Dreamless Sleep could get rid of those.”

“Have you thought of talking to somebody?” Hermione suggested and Ron pursed his lips.

“Like the Muggles with their therapy?”

“Exactly like that,” Hermione pushed, “I’ve heard it can really help. My mother’s friend went a few times when I went home for summer and she okay. It can’t hurt, can it?”

Ron shrugged again, “I guess not.”

“I’m sure Mum or Dad have a few phone numbers.”

“Not a Muggle therapy.”

“But Ron…”

“No,” Ron said bluntly, “You said it, I need to talk to somebody. And if I need to then I need to tell the truth and, well, I can’t tell the truth to Muggles. I’d be burned at the stake.”

“Highly unlikely,” Hermione said dryly and Ron snorted, “So why the drinking?”

“Honestly, I’ll never drink again,” Ron said, “I thought it might help me forget. I only had the few bottles around the flat. Just made me feel miserable and ill.” 

A car horn blared from outside and they both looked to the window. 

They gazed into the starry night in relative silence until Hermione cleared her throat and made to get up.

Ron grabbed her hand.

“Stay,” he said, “Please.”

“Your mother has already said that’s inappropriate,” Hermione grinned at that particularly memory and a hint of a smile appeared on Ron’s face.

“She won’t know. She doesn’t know I’m on leave so she won’t pop round.”

“Hence the electric fireplace,” Hermione looked towards it and Ron nodded. 

“Y’know Harry won’t be happy if I leave,” Ron said suddenly.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Harry will be fine with any decision you make. We’re not the main people in his life right now.”

“No that’d be my sister,” Ron pulled a disgusted face, “I hope Mum has given them the same rules.”

“And when has Harry, or Ginny for that matter, ever obeyed rules?”

Ron let out a fake gag and grinned into a final sip of his tea, “So you’ll stay?”

“If you agree to talk to somebody tomorrow,” Hermione said.

“Okay.”

Hermione looked shocked, “I’m surprised you agreed to that so easily.”

Ron scoffed and took the empty tea mugs into the kitchen, “I’m not a child. I’m sick of being treated like I’m fourteen again. I know what I have to do.”

Hermione came up behind him to hug his waist.

“What’s that for?” Ron asked, running his hands over Hermione’s.

“You’re not a child Ron,” Hermione said softly into his ear, “You’re a man. You’re a great man who has accomplished and experienced things far beyond many other men.”

Ron turned around, took Hermione’s face gently in his hands and kissed her softly. Hermione returned the tender kiss and pulled back.

“Can I change for bed?”

“I haven’t destroyed the flat, your drawer is still the same,” Ron smiled, “I’ll be along in a minute.” 

Hermione gave Ron a quick kiss on the cheek and vanished into the bedroom. Ron remained in the kitchen and looked anxiously at the pantry cupboard. He kept a sleeping potion behind the excess tea bags and next to the peanut butter he’d become so fond of. He usually took a teaspoon of it to wash down the foul potion. 

Perhaps he’d be okay tonight, with Hermione next to him and the promise of a better tomorrow.


End file.
